


Third time's a charm

by buckysknifecollection



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Lack of Communication, Mention of Stalking, Mutual Pining, Peter Parker is the only owner of a braincell, Stupidity, not steve or reader though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckysknifecollection/pseuds/buckysknifecollection
Summary: A simple misunderstanding between Steve and his crush leads to some drama and hurt feelings.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Third time's a charm

**Author's Note:**

> {{This piece was reposted from my Tumblr blog buckysknifecollection.tumblr.com}}
> 
> This fic infuriated me because I HATE the lack of communication. But I wanted to experiment with that "trope" so tadaa! Let me know if you yelled at the screen while reading because I sure did. A LOT.

Steve likes you. He likes you a lot. He’d even go as far as say he has the biggest crush since the war and it’s all you. He likes your carefree sense of humor, the way your eyes seem to twinkle whenever you smile and the way you pout when you’re grumpy. Steve likes you even though you willingly eat liquorice like it’s the best candy ever created. 

But now as he stands in front of your office, next to the slightly open door, unnoticed by you or the coworker you’re talking with, he’s starting to think he might just be the biggest idiot to walk the Earth.

_ _ _ _

The two of you met when he appeared on your department’s floor at the Tower. Public Relations was the one section of the Tower no one liked to visit, even less than Accounting, and that’s because if you had you go to the PR people, it meant you fucked up big time.

Steve hadn’t exactly fucked up that big of a time, because it wasn’t really his fault that their most recent maniac to deal with had a flamethrower that definitely was overcompensating for something. But he also wasn’t excited that footage of him with his suit shredded and burned to bits, barely covering his bits, was floating around the web and trending on all social media. Tony has told him multiple times that all exposure is good exposure, but Steve was pretty sure that only applied to Hollywood stars.

Either way, for a man with a mission to fix his reputation, he looked so awkward, uncomfortable and out of place, it caught your attention all the way from across the hall as you were heading for your office. Steve was grateful that you took pity on him and offered your help. Within a few hours, you had managed to get everything deleted, all the while he stared at you in awe like you were some powerful witch. 

So maybe he spent those few hours (eight and a half, exactly) in your office, but who was going to judge him? He had to make sure everything was gone after all, and your story about how you once got your hand stuck in a jar of peanut butter was actually quite hilarious. And maybe he really liked your smile and that tiny, barely there appreciative look in your eyes when you inspected the footage you were to delete. It might be a possibility that he caught you checking him out when he stood up to stretch his legs on the third hour in, and he may have liked that you liked what you saw. Maybe. Not that he would admit it to anyone.

Since that day, he’d often conveniently find himself in the Tower’s restaurant where most employees spent their breaks. If you were alone, he’d keep you company at your favourite table by the windows and always make you run late because it seemed like you just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Encouraged by both Tony and Natasha, Steve had decided to take things a bit further and show you that he was interested in actually dating you.

“You know how back in the olden days, men brought flowers for their ladies? That’s still a thing people do.” Natasha offered, not even looking up from her phone to see Steve frown.

“I’m sure there was a less sarcastic way of saying that, but thanks for the advice, Nat.”

“You’re welcome.” Steve rolled his eyes and left the room before she could throw any more sarcastic comments at him.

That was how a plan formed - there was a service where he could order a bouquet of his choice and have it delivered to you. He’d gladly bring it himself and watch your eyes light up happily and maybe try his luck and kiss you on the cheek, but that very day he was sent away on an urgent mission Fury assigned him to, so a delivery service had to do.

He picked a white and yellow mixed composition, which reminded him of a blouse you once wore. When he got to the part where he could add a personalised card, he froze, not really sure what to say. After a way too long brainstorming session with the plain wall in front of him, he settled on something simple: I hope you have a great day. SR. Yeah, he was pleased with that. Accept, pay and done. 

The next day he’d stroll in your office and comment in the most nonchalant way on the pretty flowers on your desk and earn himself that bright smile you had reserved for him.

And when he was on his way to do just that, he saw the girl you shared your office with pass him in the hall, with your flowers in one hand with a plastic bag of trash. That threw him off. Did you not like the flowers? Did you not like flowers in general? No, that wasn’t possible, you had seven pots surrounding your desk, so you obviously liked flowers. 

“Steve! Hi!” You called from the doorway. He hasn’t seen you in a few days and he had to admit he really missed you. 

“How was the mission?” You asked casually as you pulled him into a friendly hug the moment he approached you.

That was the first time you’d touched him and he forgot all about the flowers. Who even cares about flowers? Not Steve. Steve only cared that you were happy to see him. 

The whole flower matter was completely forgotten until a couple months later, on Valentine’s Day, Steve thought it would be nice to send you something, since he was forced to ditch Stark’s party in favour of an emergency week-long mission in the middle of nowhere on the other end of the globe. He made a point to at least send you a text in the morning, letting you know he won’t be able to make it, despite promising to be your date. 

You seemed to hide just how disappointed you were and it broke Steve’s heart. So as the jet passed over the Statue of Liberty, without thinking much about it, Steve picked out a bouquet of mixed pink and red flowers, wrote Happy Valentine’s Day Sweetheart. SR, accepted and payed. 

Protocol didn’t allow any contact, so he switched off his phone and hoped you’d like the gift and enjoy the party while his team stops another madman. 

Exactly seven days later, Steve finally boarded the jet again to take him back home. Ribs bruised and wounds healing, he eagerly dug through his bag to find his phone. Four message notifications flashed at him and he was excited to see most were from you, sent on the day he left for the mission. 

**16:48** You’re probably out of the country by now, but happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’re safe! 

**23:17** This party sucks without you. Everyone’s either boring, crying or dripping drool all over the floor. Come back and save me, Stevie! 

**02:54** Miss you :(

The last message had a photo attached to it, in which you pouted sadly at the camera. Steve chuckled - you must have been quite drunk at that point, your makeup was a bit smeared here and there, your hair a bit messy. But you still looked irresistible in your short, deep red dress. He’d regret it for the rest of his life that he couldn’t be there and see you up close in all of your adorable glory. 

The last message was from Natasha, and apparently was a video, sent on that same night, only half an hour before your last message. Steve expected a video of someone, probably Clint, making a fool of himself on the dancefloor, but when he pressed play, it was anything but that. 

It was a security camera footage, facing a dumpster, of all things. The image was grainy, as if Natasha recorded the footage off another screen. For a few seconds, all Steve could see was that dumpster. Then, through an exit he couldn’t see, you stormed out, angrily stomped down the steps, ripped the lid of the dumpster open, threw something in and went back inside. 

It was the bouquet he had sent you for Valentine’s Day. 

Steve doesn’t even care why Natasha was looking at security cameras, or how did she even know that was something he should see. The only painful and confusing thought in his mind was why did you do that? 

Steve switched his phone off again and for the rest of the five hour flight, he stayed in his seat, head pressed against the metal wall of the cabin and chest heavy with hurt. 

_ _ _ _

You woke up so hangover you couldn’t even figure out how you have your coffee in the morning. You didn’t even want anything with taste, just the thought made you sick. You should not have had those shots with the girls. But a few women from the Avengers team were offering you all drinks and it was fun and you were missing Steve, because that was supposed to be your first Valentine’s Day spent together. 

And no, you weren’t even a couple, but if he had been there, who knows, maybe he’d be making you hangover breakfast right about now. But fate isn’t that kind, and Steve’s on a mission, and by the time he’s back, this lame holiday you care way too much about will be long forgotten. 

Now as you sit at your desk, head in your hands, eyes screwed shut as you try to will the painkillers to make the headache go away, you regret even going to that party. You should’ve just stayed at home, then at least you would’ve actually remembered what you did, because you still haven’t figured out how did you get home.

“Well, if it isn’t the future Mrs Rogers!” Stella, your coworker, chirps when she enters the office.

“What are you even talking about, Stell?” You groan, not even looking up from the desk.

“That’s all you talked about last night! How you adore Cap and how when he comes back from his mission you’re gonna get on your knee and ask him to marry you.” She chuckles. “I think he’d say yes.”

You groan again, louder, and let your head fall on the desk, where you will stay until Death comes to take your miserable soul to the Underworld. 

Stella hesitates, obviously wanting to say more, but she isn’t sure how much embarrassment you can handle. 

“There’s more, isn’t there?” 

“You, um, asked Black Widow to be your bridesmaid.” She says in a small voice, already prepared for an outburst.

You shoot upright, out of your chair, eyes wide. “I said all that in front of _Natasha Romanoff_?!” 

“Y-Yeah. Hawkeye and that witchy were there too.”

“Oh my _God!_ ”

“Do you remember the flowers?” Stella asks before you can even comprehend just how embarrassing you were last night. That catches your attention - flowers are…. a sensitive topic.

“What flowers?!”

Stella slumps back in her chair, nervously clicking her pen which you kind of want to throw out the window. “When we were at the bar, this delivery guy came up to us, saying he’s got a special delivery for you. It was these really pretty flowers, and you just snatched the card, read it and knocked like three shots back.” Stella shakes her head in disbelief at your behaviour. “Then you snatched the flowers, totally freaked out everyone, and left.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You don’t remember saying or doing any of that, the last thing you remember is texting Steve to tell him how bored you are, even if you know he wouldn’t answer you and then you remember Natasha and Clint showing up with some vodka and tequila. After that… nothing.

“Do you have an idea who could’ve sent those flowers?” Stella asks in a conspiratorial whisper, as if the answer isn’t obvious.

You scoff and sit back down, turning your computer on. “I don’t even remember what the card said, but I think I can guess.”

_ _ _ _

It’s been nine days since Steve has returned to the Tower. Nine days since he saw the video from Natasha, got a massive headache and then threw himself into work. Fury didn’t have any missions for him, so he busied himself with paperwork, planning, training, meetings and whatever other nonsense kept him away from you. 

He hasn’t spoken to you, or even seen you since he came back. He hasn’t even opened any of your messages or emails, hasn’t answered any calls.

“Why did you even send me that video?” Steve demands when Natasha insists for the fifth time that day that he speaks to you.

“Honestly, Steve, I didn’t know those were from you. I thought I was sending you a video of your girl angrily rejecting someone else in your favour.” Natasha sips her tea calmly, completely unphased by Steve’s scowl.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Fury’s best spy?”

“Cut me some slack, I was drunk too, you know.” She lifts a perfect brow at him - clear signal that she’s trying to bullshit her way out of the scolding.

“Don’t give me that crap. You get about as drunk as I do.” He scoffs. 

The microwave beeps, indicating Steve’s snack was ready. Natasha stands off the barstool she was occupying and puts her empty mug in the dishwasher. “I’m just saying…. Talk to her. She asked me to be her bridesmaid on your wedding, Steve.”

“But she still threw out the flowers I sent her. Explain that, Natasha.” Steve demands, tired of the mixed signals, of the confusion and most of all of the stupid games that were being played.

Natasha shrugs on her way out. “Women, ya know?”

“You know what Romanoff?” He scoffs again, tired of his unhelpful friend as well. Steve decides the best way to escape everyone who insisted on giving him advice he didn’t want was to spend some time out in the gardens, so he grabs his snack and a bottle of water and leaves out the glass doors leading outside. 

He has no clue why Tony insisted on having a dozen picnic tables set up around the gardens, because the only person who seemed to ever come out there was Wanda. Steve sat at the first table he came across, enjoying the peace and silence. It was cold out but already felt like the fresh air helped him calm down. Until he heard a voice in the distance. 

“Steve?” You call as you run across the snow covered field, your coat tied tightly around your waist and a thick scarf wrapped around your neck. 

You look absolutely adorable and part of Steve wants to scoop you up in his arms and never let go, or just scoop you up so you don’t slip. Another part of him is furious that you seemed completely oblivious. 

_ _ _ _

“There you are!” You huff as you sit down across from him, an easy smile on your lips. “I was worried about you! I haven’t heard from you in almost two weeks! Wanda said you’re busy.” You sigh, the cold air seems to make it uncomfortable for you to breathe. “So how are you?" 

Steve turns his eyes back down to his plate, where he was stabbing the fork around in frustration. "You can stop pretending now.” He murmurs.

“What?" 

"You can stop acting like you’re interested in me. Whatever you wanted from me, you’re not getting it.” Steve knows he sounds like a bratty, over dramatic child but he can’t help himself. He’s frustrated and hurt and he doesn’t really care about keeping up the stoic persona he usually wears like an armour.

You only stare at him in disbelief, trying to figure out what was he on about. “You think I _wanted_ something from you?!" 

"Yeah.” The look in his eyes gives you the worst chills. It’s full of hurt and hatred, you’ve never see him like this, Steve has always been so sweet and charming. You have no idea what changed. “This entire time you acted like you want to be friends, I thought maybe more. But you’ve shown your real face. We’re done." 

Your jaw drops open. You can’t believe what you’re hearing and you can’t believe it’s coming from Steve. The last time you spoke to each other, he was cupping your face and kissing your forehead and telling you not to worry about him while he’s on the mission. Then after he came back, he never replied to any of your messages, he didn’t even visit you in your office like he always did. You figured he was busy, but it still worried you when you would see him walk around the Compound with his head low and shoulders tense. Every time you tried to catch up with him, Steve would mysteriously disappear around the corner and the one time you mustered up the courage to ask one of his teammates about him, they’re give you some nonsense and avoided your eyes.

As sad as the whole situation made you, and as much as you missed him like crazy, the way he was treating you infuriated you. It was unfair and uncalled for.

“ _My real face_? What are you even talking about?!” You all but screech in his face.

“Natasha sent me a video from the Valentine’s Day party. We’re done. You can go.” He looks away from you, his decision final.

As if the cold air wasn’t enough, you feel as if he just dumped a bucket of icy water on you.

Oh. The party. That explained a lot.

You didn’t remember much from that night, but judging from what Stella had told you, you made an utter fool of yourself, talking about marrying Steve when he wasn’t even your boyfriend. You didn’t put it past Agents Romanoff and Barton to record it and forward it to Steve, maybe even others. His behaviour made sense to you suddenly - you went too far, he’s not interested in you that way and decided to put distance between himself and the weird office girl who thought she could snatch up Captain America.

The longer you sat there in silence, blankly staring at the table between you and the man you had spent months pining after, you felt tears prickling at your eyes, threatening to expose just how hurt you were. You refuse to make an even bigger fool of yourself so you jump off your seat and hurry away to the safety of your office before the hot tears start streaming down your cheeks.

_ _ _ _ 

Steve watches as you hurry away, almost slipping on the path towards the building and he honestly wants to kick himself for being so mean to you. Surely, there was a nicer way he could’ve said that, maybe Natasha’s bluntness was rubbing off on him. But he feels what he did was fair. He wasn’t interested in being toyed with and he didn’t want to waste any more energy on someone who did not really want him. He sighs heavily and looks back to his food, now completely cold and he realises that coming out there was a stupid idea after all.

“Yikes, Mr Rogers.” A voice startles Steve back to reality. He looks to the side where, of all possible people, Peter Parker sits on a nearby bench, a stack of books next to him.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” Steve is so surprised by the kid’s presence, he can’t even control his face when his jaw drops open.

“Oh, I was just doing some reading because I’m helping Mr Stark with this new project for a suit but I don’t really know how all of it works so I’m just reading up on it, you know?” Peter explains, quickly joining Steve at the table and dropping his pile of books on the surface.

As the boy settles in his seat, he glances at the direction to ran towards. “So what was that about?”

Steve cringes, he really doesn’t want to discuss this situation any further. In fact, if Peter hadn’t appeared out thin air (or was he there the entire time but Steve didn’t notice him? he has no clue), Steve would already be on his way to his room, or office, where he would isolate himself from everyone and everything. 

When Steve doesn’t answer him for a while, Peter leans a bit closer, resting his elbows on the table and looking at Steve like he’s some professional counselor. “Wanna talk about it?” Part of Steve doesn’t think discussing the matter with a seventeen-year-old was a good idea, but then again, Steve knows how smart Peter is. Maybe he was just being a grumpy old man and Peter’s point of view might shine some new light on the whole thing? 

So Steve thinks to hell with it and lays out his heart for the kid to analyse and find some sense. He only hops he wouldn’t let any of this slip to Tony, or Steve would never hear the end of it. 

A few minutes thoughtful silence and half a juice box later, Peter gives Steve an analysing stare. “And you said you signed those cards that come with the flowers?”

“Yes.”

Peter looks away, thinking again. He finishes his juice and turnes to Steve again. “With your full name?”

Steve’s mind goes blank and he straightens his back. “No? My initials?” But surely you knew his initials, right? You did refer to him by his last name sometimes.

“Maybe she thinks those were from someone else, then.” Peter turns to him fully, his tone sounding an awful lot like Tony when he explains one of his undoubtedly genius ideas. “There must be like… three hundred Shield and Avengers Initiative employees at the Tower every day, and that’s probably not even including all the interns. Maybe there’s someone who has the same initials as you, but isn’t as nice.”

Steve feels like Parker just doused him in icy water. That possibility has never crossed his mind, but maybe Peter is right? Maybe you did think those flowers were from someone else and he just wrongly accused you of something you weren’t guilty of?

Oh. _Oh_ , this was terrible. _He_ was terrible. And _stupid_.

Quickly thanking Peter for his help, Steve runs back inside. He has to talk to you, he has to fix this.

_ _ _ _

You hate that you had to be at work today. After what Steve told you yesterday, all you wanted was to curl up in bed and wallow in misery, but Stella needed help with a big project you couldn’t take a day off. So there you are, holed up in you office all morning, door locked and glass walls switched to frosted mode so nobody bothers you. The plan was to get everything done as fast as possible and go home an hour or two early, preferably without running into any Avengers. 

"Okay, I’ve got all the extra files we need and those photocopies you asked for. I also brought coffee.” Stella dumps the stack of documents on her desk, then comes over to yours to set a coffee next to your head, which was pressed against the cool wooden surface for the past hour. 

When you don’t answer her or even move a muscle to accept the coffee she so caringly made for you (and extra shot of caramel syrup for the soul), she huffs and props her hands on her hips, doing what you liked to call her Sharon Carter impression. 

“Are you gonna keep on moping over Mr Moron or are you gonna get your shit together?” she demands, obviously annoyed with the crisis you’ve been going through since the day before. “If you’re gonna be useless, then you might as well go home.”

Her sharp tone makes you lift your head and narrow your eyes at her accusingly. “Wow, Stella, how sympathetic of you.”

“I got your attention, didn’t I?” She smirks and leans her hip against your desk, arms now crossed triumphantly in front of her. “Come on, if he’s being a dick to you, then he’s obviously not worth your time.”

“But, Stella… Everything was going so well. I had no clue what’s gotten into him after that mission. And then yesterday he mentioned some video Romanoff sent him. I bet it was one of me making a complete fool of myself talking marriage.” You lay your face against the desk again, there wasn’t enough energy left in you after the night of crying.

“Okay, you know what. Screw him then. Like I said, he’s not worth your time.” Stella goes back to her desk. “More importantly, what are you gonna do about that dickhead sending you flowers again?”

“I don’t know!” You sit upright, a wave of frustration hitting you at the mention of that topic. “He doesn’t even work here so it’s not like I can go confront him. I have a report ready and I’ll send it to the managers, but that’s all I can do for now, really.”

“I mean, who does he even think he is?! Sending me flowers all of a sudden like I’m his girlfriend or something! That moron should get a life and leave me alone!” While you rant angrily, you quickly find the report on your computer and print it off. “There. Report is done, I going to the managers.”

Before Stella can utter a single word, you’re out of your chair and through the door, stomping away with more fury than she thought you were capable of.

_ _ _ _

Steve likes you. He likes you a lot. He’d even go as far as say he has the biggest crush since the war and it’s all you. He likes your carefree sense of humor, the way your eyes seem to twinkle whenever you smile and the way you pout when you’re grumpy. Steve likes you even though you willingly eat liquorice like it’s the best candy ever created. 

But now as he stands in front of your office, next to the slightly open door, unnoticed by you or Stella, he’s starting to think he might just be the biggest idiot to walk the Earth.

Part of him wants to go inside and simply ask you about the situation, talk like the adults you’re both supposed to be and solve the problem that’s put a strain on your friendship. But the childish part of him doesn’t want to face you and even risk finding out that maybe the theory Peter had planted in his head was wrong. Maybe you really did have a reason to be nice to Steve’s face but then say such things to your coworker? Maybe Steve was the problem - maybe he misjudged your relationship and you didn’t want to be anything more than friends and it was him that was crossing the line and for some reason you didn’t want to tell him? 

After what he’s just heard though, he doubts talking to you now was a good idea, especially with the bouquet of roses in his hand. He moves to leave, but before he can even take a step, something slams straight into his back. He turns around quickly to see your startled face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?” You demand, your voice breaking just a little bit. 

“I was going to apologise for yesterday, but you clearly don’t want to see me.” He steps away from you and nods towards the office, giving you a sign that he heard what you were saying.

You take a deep breath. “You owe me at least an explanation.” You say without looking at him, just walk back inside the office to lean against your desk. Steve follows you inside, nodds a greeting at Stella, who narrows her eyes at him but quickly leaves the room, giving the two of you some much needed privacy. When he turns to you, you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest defensively and avoid looking him in the eyes.

It’s obvious that you were hurt by this whole situation just like him, even if he didn’t understand why exactly. In your attempt to avoid his eyes, or him in general, you notice he’s hiding something behind his back. 

“What’s that?” You ask, trying sound nonchalant, but he perks up that he at least got your attention. 

“I brought these for you, but from what I just heard, you’re not a big fan.” He moves his arm in front of him, revealing a beautiful bouquet of roses. You take them from him and take a moment to enjoy the smell. When you notice the logo on the wrapping, you can almost hear the imaginary brakes of your brain screech to a stop. 

“ _Oh my God_.” You whine and cover your face with your hand in embarrassment.

Now you understood why he was mad at you. Sure, he was being over dramatic as hell about out it, but now at least you understood where it all came from.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Steve gently touches the hand under which you were trying to hide your idiocy. 

“I’m an idiot. And you’re and idiot too.” You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you found yourself in. Steve must think you lost your mind, because he looks at you confused. 

“Steve, did you send me those other flowers? On Valentine’s Day and a few months earlier?”

“Yes and it was brought to my attention that maybe I didn’t do it correctly.” He sighs. “Did you think they were from someone else?”

You nod and pull him closer so you can finally hug him. “Last year there was this guy, Stewart Ridge was his name. He worked in the offices a few floors down that used to harass quite a few girls around the office. Amongst other things, he would send us flowers and sign them only with his initials - S.R.” 

“And you thought those flowers were from him?” Steve chuckles, only now understanding how everything got messed up because of one simple misunderstanding.

“Yes! Steve, I am _so_ sorry! I don’t know how it never crossed my mind that it was you!”

“I’m the one who should be apologising. I should have asked you about it months ago instead of overreacting.” He cups your face in his hands, just like he did before he left on his mission. “I’m sorry I said all those terrible things, you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You grin at him, immediately accepting his apology. You can feel your eyes get watery with emotion and try to lighten the mood. “I guess we’re both kinda dumb, huh?”

“Do you think that makes us perfect for each other?” His thumbs gently stroke your cheeks and he leans closer, long lashes almost brushing his cheek as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes.

You shrug, but you can feel yourself get giddy at the thought that Steve Rogers is about to kiss you. “One way to find out?”

When his lips touch yours, you feel a shudder run down your spine. How many times have you wanted to kiss those pretty pink lips? How many times have you daydreamed about being held by him like this? The answer is many - many, many times.

But your brain could never produce a fantasy as good as the reality. Steve is gentle and he’ taking his time, his lips moving with yours in perfect harmony, as if the past weeks never happened. It feels like he’s holding himself back though and that’s the last thing you want. You press your body flush to him, so he knows just how eager you are, and you sink your hand in his golden hair, which you note feels a lot softer than you imagined.

His hold on you tightens just a little and his tongue dips between your lips only for a moment before he goes back to only pecking your lips. When he pulls away and you can only feel the ghost of his warmth on you, you actually want to whine, but he’s grinning at you like he’s about say something real dumb.

“So… Nat mentioned something about a wedding?”

“Oh _nooo_ …” You hide your face against his shoulder, your entire face prickling in embarrassment.


End file.
